A simple supply hunt for a source of water in the middle of Atlanta turns sour quickly for Erin as she come fist to face with a fuming, handless Merle Dixon.
Alone in the middle of the apocalypse with only a racist guy who doesn't know the differen...
"You don't protect your heart by acting like you don't have one." - Unknown
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Once Hershel was happy with the state of Daryl's bandages and gauze, he agreed it was safe to move him out of the house and into one of the tents. Since she still felt guilty for shooting him, Andrea was easily persuaded to give up hers and move her belongings back into the RV. A couple of blankets were thrown down on the floor of the tent and Daryl was carefully placed on top of them. It was safe to say he wasn't too happy about remaining immobilised but, as Erin continued to point out to him, there was no way he could fight if he was doubled over in pain every time he moved a few metres - even getting him outside was a nightmare.
Erin and Rick helped him walk, but ended up basically just carrying him down the porch steps, ignoring his indignant protests of how he could walk perfectly fine and lugging him all the way to the tent with his arms about their shoulders. Rick himself still looked pretty ghastly with all the bruises, but she supposed she hardly had any room to talk with stitches still running from under her eyes to the top of her cheek. Weirdly enough, both of their injuries had been given by Merle's fists which prompted her to ponder if putting him in the shed was a good idea after all.
"I hate this," Daryl grumbled once Rick had dismissed himself, leaving them alone in the surprisingly cool tent despite the temperature outside.
"You'll only injure yourself further if you move around," she replied pointedly, but he shook his head.
"I meant in general..." he muttered, laying his head back on the blanket and sighing, "I hate what this ass-backwards world has done to me..."
She peered down at him, puzzled, "What do you mean?"
"A few months back, I woulda floored Shane for even goin' near my brother... Now look at me. Lettin' a bunch of idiots lock him up without an argument..." He stared up at the roof of the tent for a few moments before looking back at her, a sense of humanity glistening in his eyes, "What's happened to me?"
"Same as everyone else..." It sounded proverbial and deep but something at the bottom of Erin's gut told her it was the truth, "I think it's changed everyone... Showed who they really are..."
"You tryin' to say that deep down I'm soft?" Daryl said accusingly, but a trace of a smile lingered at the edge of his lips.
She laughed lightly, "Despite your shortcomings, I've always known you're a big softie, Daryl. You can't hide anything from me."
His smile faltered slightly and for a second he looked as though he wanted to say something, but the impression was gone within a blink, his face brightening up again like it had never occurred, "Yeah... you keep tellin' yourself that..."
Normally, she would have let the strangeness slide and said nothing of it, but Erin recalled seeing him hesitate like that a few times in the past, like he was hiding something or biting his tongue instead of telling her. Plucking up some courage, she tilted her head at him, "What were you going to say?"
